


Important

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode: s02e13 Critical Mass, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-26
Updated: 2011-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:25:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John reaches out to a team-mate in need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Important

“Hey.”

Teyla doesn’t look up, a solitary figure down by the grey-blue water. “Colonel.”

John sits down beside her, not cross-legged, but with his legs hanging off the edge of the pier. She’s not good at using his name, and he’s not sure if that’s because she’s trying to keep her distance, or just forgets that he’s asked her not to shy from being familiar.

Silence sits on them like sunlight, heavy and warm, and John feels reluctant to speak of what’s on her mind, lazy.

He’s got more urgent things to do than be up before sunrise - sleep being high on that list. But urgent’s not the same as important, as his mother used to say when he was young and reckless.

This is important.

“Your people have settled back in?”

“Yes.” Terse is not usually Teyla’s way, but today, she’s as sparing with syllables as Ronon usually is. “You should be in bed. You were up late.”

“Yeah, dealing with the _Daedelus_ crew was fun.” It was early morning when he finially finished up meetings with Major Penrose and First Officer Larkin regarding Caldwell.

From the corner of his eye, he sees her turn her face towards him, and meets her gaze. She hasn’t wiped away the tear-trails from her eyes, unaware or uncaring that he’s seeing her at less than her best, and they shine clear in the morning light. “Is Colonel Caldwell...?”

“Hermiod thinks they can beam the Goa’uld out of him,” John says. “But there’ll probably be counselling involved. And paperwork.”

One corner of her mouth quirks, and John recalls himself to the situation. He didn’t come to her to complain about his own troubles. He came to see about her. He just doesn’t know what to ask, what to say.

John’s never been good at this kind of thing.

“It’s not too bad,” he says hastily. “Professional stuff, not personal.”

Like yours.

Teyla’s gaze drifts back out to the sea. “It is still difficult.”

“Maybe.” John hesitates. The sunlight’s hot on his face, his eyes water with the brightness, but he doesn’t look away from her face. “Look, if you need a few days with your people, I can fly you over to the mainland.”

It’s her turn to hesitate. “That will not be necessary.”

“You’re sure? Because it’s no big deal.”

“I am sure.” Her smile is small and grateful, yet somehow small and slightly broken. It moves John enough to say what’s probably already been said by everyone else.

“I’m sorry about Charin.”

Teyla looks away. “I will miss her.”

One more tie with her people, snapped. John thinks of his time in Antarctica, severed from the rest of what had been his world. A thread of commonality tightens around them. He promises that he will never let Teyla be as he was then: alone.

“Do you want...” John looks down and away at the open sea before them. It’s easier to say when he’s not looking at her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Below them, waves crash against the base of the platform, the only noise in the quiet other than John’s heartbeat thumping in his ears.

“Would you want to listen?”

“I’m not Rodney.”

“No,” she agrees. “You are not.” The breakers wash up below them, dashing themselves into foam. And John waits for her answer.

“Not now,” she says finally. “Some other time.”

John’s both relieved and sorry. He thinks he would like to hear about Charin’s life from Teyla sometime. It feels like he knows too little about her people, while she’s learned so much about Earth.

Teyla unfolds her legs, copying his pose as he sits with his legs danging off the edge of the pontoon. She shifts over a little, so they’re almost sitting leg to leg. After a moment, her head rests briefly on his shoulder and her arm slips around his waist, an affection she rarely shows to anyone in Atlantis, let alone John. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” John lets his lips brush over her hair. Maybe it’s out of line, maybe it’s inappropriate, but she needs this contact, and he thinks that maybe he, too, needed this.

When she lets go of him, he lets her go.

They sit on the pier until the sun is high in the sky.

 


End file.
